The Clarity of Hatred
by ashtrayhearts
Summary: Potter had dared insinuating Draco couldn't hold his own against him in a 'real' fight – his qualifier, not Draco's – so of course Draco had suggested this.


**Title** The Clarity of Hatred

**Pairing** Harry/Draco

**Word Count** 986

**Rating** R

**Warnings** violence

**Summary** "Potter had dared insinuating Draco couldn't hold his own against him in a 'real' fight – his qualifier, not Draco's – so of course Draco had suggested this."

**A/N**: The title (and inspiration) is taken from a Buffy quote about passion I can't link here (just Google "Joss Whedon passion" and you'll find it) and I guess it was also in a roundabout way inspired by the Inheritance chapter _The Way of Knowing_. I suppose it would be set sometime during HBP, but it's not really important.

They circled each other.

Draco watched Potter's every step. He wasn't graceful exactly, but there was something forceful about the way he moved. Thinking he had seen an opening, Draco lunged towards Potter. But Potter just stepped to the side, necessitating Draco to use the excessive force of the precipitous action to turn mid-jump so he could keep his eyes on him.

There were no wands.

Potter had dared insinuating Draco couldn't hold his own against him in a 'real' fight – his qualifier, not Draco's – so of course Draco had suggested this. Normally, he despised fighting without magic. It was so digraceful, so common. For Potter, he would make an exception.

There was a flash of something feral in Potter's eyes, giving Draco a two second warning of what happened next. Potter copied the move Draco had made earlier, but he was just a little bit faster, catching Draco's sleeve before he could fully evade him. It bothered Draco that Potter had once again succeeded where he had failed even though there were more important things to worry about.

For a moment, Potter didn't do anything. They were only hair's breadth apart, breathing heavily and watching each other with careful trepidation. And then Potter pushed him back so forcefully Draco could hear something crack as he hit the floor. He grimaced, but the pain was bearable so he hooked his foot around Potter's ankle to bring him down with him. Too late he remembered that the motion would cause Potter to land directly on him. He rolled over, but once again he wasn't fast enough and Potter crushed his right leg to the floor with his weight. Draco closed his eyes for a moment as the pain surged through him and he heard Potter suck in a sharp breath. Draco smirked and fisted his hand in Potter's hair, jerking his head back so he could look at him. Potter's cheeks were flushed and his eyes were bright and aware. They widened in surprise when he saw Draco's expression, but then he grinned and drew his hand back.

The world went black for a few long seconds when Potter's fist connected with Draco's right eye. Had he been in Potter's place, he would have used his momentary lack of concentration to end the fight with a smashing victory, but Potter was Potter and Potter had _morals_. Draco shook his head, once, twice, and then he was able to focus on the fight again. He was still under Potter and thus at a disadvantage, but he thought he might be able to work with it.

He expected another blow any second now. He knew Potter had only hesitated so long because he had thought Draco incapable of reciprocating and Draco had let him believe it, but he could already see the hesitation give way to the need to act.

_If you ever find yourself in a fight you can't win, do the unexpected._

There were a lot of things his father had said that Draco doubted these days, but this wasn't one of them. He brought his knee up to hit Potter where it hurt. Because he was still pinned to the floor by Potter's weight and his movement was restricted, the action didn't hurt Potter as much as would have been ideal, but it had the desired effect: It distracted him long enough so Draco could lean up and bite him. He sank his teeth into the soft skin of Potter's neck in a vicious bite, only pulling back with a satisfied smile when he heard Potter's strangled scream.

And suddenly it was Draco on top of Potter pummeling his face in. There was no denying it – Potter squirming underneath him felt good. It felt like accomplishment and victory and pure unadulterated power.

The elation didn't last very long. Feeling secure in his superior position, Draco had failed to notice Potter's left hand coming up lightning fast. He couldn't help but notice it when it was strangling him of course. He didn't think Potter would actually kill him, but he was gasping for air soon enough and the possibility of imminent death didn't seem so improbable as his thoughts started reeling in endless circles, one more bizzare than the other as his brain struggled with the lack of oxygen.

_If that still doesn't help you win, cheat._

Achieving perfection at non-verbal spells was extremly difficult. Achieving perfection at non-verbal _wandless_ spells was nigh impossible. Draco didn't need perfection, he just needed to win.

When Potter loosened his hands around Draco's neck, Draco gathered up all the strenght he had left and thought _Legilimens!_, meeting Potter's eyes as he did. Even though Draco had proven to be an above average Legilimens when his aunt had insisted he learn the art along with Occlumency, the attack on Potter's mind was weak and countered so fast Draco didn't get more than a few flashes of indistinct emotion.

It was all he needed.

As he focused on blocking Draco, Potter had dropped his hand completely, giving Draco the chance to flip them around again and pin Potter's hands over his head. His throat burned with every intake of breath and his right eye was dropping in a steady rhythm, but in that moment, he knew he had won.

And he would have, if he hadn't made the mistake of looking into Potter's eyes. The usual hatred was completely absent. It wasn't replaced by kindness or love or any other fond emotion. What Draco found was acceptance, acceptance that Draco was Potter's equal at least in this, and it completely unsettled him.

"I hate you," he said, his voice croaky and helpless.

Potter smiled. "I know."


End file.
